


when your heart becomes quiet (discover me)

by incendir



Series: alive [3]
Category: K-pop, Winner (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8945740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incendir/pseuds/incendir
Summary: at first - they are nothing.





	

The night Minho had come back to the club to apologize for running off and had finally introduced himself and gotten Seungyoon’s name, they both end up piled into the back of a taxi yet again, this time headed for Minho’s apartment. Minho does end up buying Seungyoon that drink, and Seungyoon propositions Minho first this time. Minho doesn’t take in a single drop of alcohol that night because he wants to remember every second. He’s clearer to Seungyoon this time amidst the heated kisses and aggressive touches in the back of the cab - he tells Seungyoon that Minho had just broken up with someone last week, and that that someone was a person Minho wasn’t likely to forget or fall out of love with any time soon, if ever. Minho needs something convenient and intense for the time being to help him forget and dull the pain, and Seungyoon’s full lips curve into an easy and understanding smile as his eyes roll.

“I know,” he says, and pulls Minho back in for another kiss.

Minho wonders if it had been like this that first night - if he’d taken Seungyoon’s thin hips and rocked them against his own before rolling them over and pressing the other man’s body into the mattress. He wonders if, that night, Seungyoon had also pressed his fingers hard down on Minho’s hips when he took Minho into his mouth, lips still stained that dark pink that’s almost unnatural in the darkness of Minho’s room - only the city lights streaming in through the blinds. Minho is fairly sure that, as intoxicated as he was that night, he must have bucked up harder than he does even now - even with Seungyoon’s slender hands holding him down.

He wonders if Seungyoon had also grinned just like this, that night, when Minho’s fingers bury themselves in Seungyoon’s hair, pulling him off just a split second before Minho comes.

 

* * *

 

Seungyoon is always ready to leave in the mornings when they do what they do at Minho’s apartment, and Minho usually leaves just as Seungyoon falls asleep when they end up at Seungyoon’s apartment. Minho doesn’t mean to come by the club as often as he does, but it’s convenient, just as he’d wanted - the club just happens to be close to the studio Minho is renting with the money he’s saved up ( _your tuition_ , his mind’s voice supplies, filled with disappointment and guilt, blame and disapproval).

Seungyoon’s shift also usually ends around the same time Minho gives up for the night, unsatisfied again with the shitty attempts at sounding far more professional and experienced than he is. He thought he had been making the right decision - finally - withdrawing from university up until he’s left with all this time, spending entire days and nights at the studio, and yet the quality of his productions don’t seem any higher than when he was splitting his time between composing and all of his assignments and extracurriculars.

He knows he could ask Jiho for help, but he doesn’t want to. He’s asked too much already, and his oldest friend has already done too much for him. He thinks Jiho knows it, too - sees in Minho’s eyes that the younger man wants to strike out on his own now, if at all.

A month after they first start this arrangement - this nothing that they are to each other aside from a mutual, safe go-to for releasing any tensions and frustrations of the day, to _forget_ \- Minho arrives at the club earlier than usual.

His parents know.

They would have found out sooner or later, but he had never expected Kyungmin to be the one to tell them - not after everything that’s happened. Minho thought, at the very least, Kyungmin would’ve felt like he owed it to Minho to keep silent about the splitting decision that Minho had brewed on for months - the decision that Kyungmin had said pushed him away from Minho in the first place.

_I don’t want to be here when you ruin your future._

When Minho arrives at the club, Seungyoon’s shift hasn’t ended yet. Minho picks up a drink at the bar - the bartender knowing him by name, face, and order by now - before heading up through the dance floor to the front of the crowd. The venue isn’t as filled as it normally is, so Minho has an easier time reaching the DJ’s booth.

Tonight Seungyoon is in the same forest green bomber jacket that Minho had first seen him in - the one sight that Minho doesn’t think he’ll ever forget. The shirt inside, this time though, is white, the cotton neckline drooping low beneath Seungyoon’s collarbone and throat. His sleeves are rolled up as he stares intently at something on his laptop before the beat gradually changes, a drop building, and then Seungyoon is moving in sync with the crowd, teeth flashing in a wide, open-mouthed laugh.

A fair few minutes pass before Seungyoon’s gaze connects with Minho’s, and Minho doesn’t blame him - the atmosphere at that moment is absolutely burning, the air crackling with energy and life. When their eyes do meet, Seungyoon’s eyebrows furrow slightly enough that no one else would have noticed that the DJ’s charming smile suddenly falters. Minho shakes his head infinitesimally - just enough that he’s certain Seungyoon detected the movement. He supposes there was something in his expression that indicated the sort of day he’s just had, but it has nothing to do with Seungyoon.

He raises his glass in a toast towards Seungyoon, smiling as reassuringly as he can that nothing that concerns Seungyoon is wrong, before dipping to the side of the dance floor and back towards the bar.

Minho ends up sitting at the bar, chatting with the bartender  on and off when there are lulls between people to serve. The rest of Seungyoon’s set is incredible as always, and Minho listens to it with a smile pressed against the rim of his glass, head moving to every beat. There are actually a few pieces that has Minho’s ears perking in a curious way - words suddenly forming in his mind even though there are otherwise none.

He pushes those thoughts away though when the songs change in a way that has Minho knowing immediately that Seungyoon’s turn is over. Seungyoon joins him at the bar then as the crowd continues on with the next DJ.

Minho doesn’t look at him as the bartender slides Seungyoon a beer.

He can already tell that something is different tonight in the way that Seungyoon doesn’t say anything for a few moments, simply taking long sips of his beer in silence - Minho himself doesn’t have anything to say where normally he would immediately suggest they leave for either of their apartments. They sit there for a while and finish their drinks like that.

Minho sets his empty glass down, feeling Seungyoon’s eyes on him as the other man waves his hand for another drink - this time the one that Minho had just downed. He chances looking over, a brief glance to gauge Seungyoon’s expression, and finds himself unable to look away once he does. The way Seungyoon is gazing at Minho makes his throat tight and his mouth dry. There’s no pressure directed at Minho from Seungyoon’s eyes, there’s no anticipation or expectation - Minho doesn’t even know just one word to describe how Seungyoon is looking at him.

_Waiting_ wouldn’t be the right expression because there’s also a sentiment that lets Minho know that if he doesn’t want to say anything, that would be fine too - anything is fine. In the end, the best way Minho can settle it to himself is that there’s understanding - the same understanding that Seungyoon always seems to look at Minho with. It isn’t presumptuous by any means - by no means does the type of understanding in Seungyoon’s expression assume that he knows and empathizes whatever Minho is going through.

_Openness_ , Minho thinks, would probably be the closest to what he’s seeing and feeling from Seungyoon.

“My parents,” Minho says, voice low, staring into the bottom of his glass, “found out that I left school - and - and that I’ve put my tuition for the next year into a studio.”

He watches Seungyoon’s expression - waits for it to change, and whether it changes to pity or disbelief or judgment, Minho tells himself it doesn’t make a difference. They are nothing to each other, after all. It doesn’t matter what Seungyoon thinks of him.

“You sing?” Seungyoon asks lightly, before Minho can finish searching Seungyoon’s face - he searches for a moment longer, almost not hearing the question because no matter how hard he searches and waits, Seungyoon’s expression is the same. The only difference Minho does finally manage to detect is curiosity.

Minho swallows. “I rap,” he says.

The curiosity is suddenly conveyed not only minimally in Seungyoon’s eyes, but throughout his whole body. The corners of his lips curving upward in interest and he sits up straighter on the barstool, leaning in against the counter and towards Minho more. “Are you good?”

Minho blinks. Of all the follow-up questions he’d expected, that one definitely wasn’t one of them - and he isn’t sure why he hadn’t anticipated that. He supposes he had just expected that Seungyoon would have questioned all of the logistics around Minho rapping at all, or maybe double back to the fact that Minho had just told him he’d traded in his university tuition for a studio. “I mean - my friend, the one who sort of got me into it - says so, but he’s my friend. So.”

Seungyoon’s eyebrows disappear up beneath his hair - tonight, like always, stuck a little with perspiration in curling clumps just above his eyes (Minho has been in the DJ booth once, just a few weeks ago, and it feels like a sauna up there). “No one’s heard you except your friend? You’ve never performed or anything?”

“A few times,” Minho says, glancing back into his glass and smiling a little to himself. He’d been a wreck the first time - nervous beyond belief, and the following two times, even though he hadn’t even had his own songs to perform, even though the venues had been tiny and insignificant, the adrenaline rush was something he’d never forget - he still starves for it whenever he thinks about that feeling. “But - again - it was with my friend, who _is_ actually good - and I was just backing him.”

Seungyoon has finished his drink by now, and now Minho feels that his expression is the one being searched intently. There’s a thoughtful look on Seungyoon’s face as the seconds tick by between them in silence, and then Seungyoon breaks it, asking briskly, “Ready to go?”

Initially, Minho had come tonight for the same and only reason that he ever comes to this club for - to see Seungyoon and go home with him or take him home and use him to forget about whatever else went wrong or just refuses to go right in Minho’s life that day. Now, however, for some reason, Minho isn’t in the mood anymore - but all the same, he still nods and puts on his coat, following Seungyoon out of the club after paying for his drink because the last thing Minho wants to do is go home alone tonight.

More than that, he finds that he likes Seungyoon’s company. In the month they’ve been doing this, this is the first time they’ve really exchanged more than the cursory greetings before proceeding right into things that involve very few words being exchanged at all.

It’s sort of easy - talking to him.

Seungyoon gives the address for his own apartment to the cab driver before Minho can, and he furrows his brows for a moment at that because they usually alternate places and tonight was definitely supposed to be at Minho’s. He figures maybe Seungyoon had also had a hard day, and a tiring one, and wants to be able to knock out right away and not have to worry about getting back in the morning. The DJ definitely doesn’t look sleepy or weary at all, though, to Minho. His eyes are on his phone in the taxi, the white light illuminating his face as his thumbs move over the screen. He’s smiling as he types, the sort of half-smile where his top teeth flash brightly, cheeks bunching.

Minho wonders what he’s reading - and whose message is he reading - to smile like that.

Seungyoon doesn’t live far from the club, just enough of a distance that, combined with the cold weather, it’d be a bit much to walk. When the taxi pulls up near the complex, Seungyoon tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans and gets out first. Minho pays the driver before Seungyoon can get to it, and the other man frowns at him playfully. “It’s fine,” Minho waves Seungyoon off as they start walking up to the building. “Just get it next time.”

Seungyoon laughs, his breath puffing out visibly in front of him in the frigid night air and Minho looks at him for a moment too long - gaze caught at the sight of Seungyoon’s lips parted, ears caught at the brief ring of his laughter.

Once they reach the elevator, Minho begins to sense something different about tonight. Seungyoon would have kissed him by now, if Minho hadn’t already moved first. As it stands, Seungyoon is leaning on the wall opposite to Minho in the lift, hands in his jacket pockets. Minho is so deep in thoughts about why something feels amiss that he doesn’t notice that they’ve been in the elevator far too long - Seungyoon is only on the fifth floor, after all.

Minho’s head whirls to the buttons and blinks in confusion when he sees that the button for the top floor has been pressed - and that they’ve almost reached it. He glances at Seungyoon, the bemusement evidently clear in his eyes, because Seungyoon grins almost immediately, and says, “It’s not the beginning of a horror movie - relax.”

“Even if it was,” Minho finds himself countering with a small smile, “I could take you.”

“Never said it was a slasher,” Seungyoon’s grin widens. “What if it was a supernatural?”

Minho feels the smile on his face turn into a grin that matches the one on the other man’s face as the elevator comes to a stop, a beep announcing their arrival.

 

* * *

  
  
They’re on the rooftop.

Seungyoon has brought Minho onto the rooftop of his apartment building - something that Minho’s building has, but there’s no level that leads up to it, and Minho is fairly sure that even if it was open for use, the sort of people who live in Minho’s building would have neither the time nor the patience nor the thought to turn it into a mini garden, complete with a large wooden platform at the center - large enough to lie on and gaze at Seoul’s starless sky.

Minho can’t stop looking around as he follows Seungyoon to the platform. He walks along the edge of the roof, hand trailing over the cement railing. Seoul at night from above is always stunning, but the placement of this apartment makes it even more so. As beautiful as the city is at night, Minho has never felt his heart beat faster looking at it until tonight.

When he glances back, Seungyoon is already sitting on the edge of the platform, phone in his hands. Minho takes a seat beside him, their shoulders brushing. Wordlessly, Seungyoon opens his phone and a beat begins playing on it. “I’ve been working on this one since - almost end of last month?” the DJ looks over at Minho hesitantly. “What d’you think?”

Honestly - it’s good.

It’s really good, and even only with the highest volume just Seungyoon’s phone has to offer, Minho already wants to get up and move to this. Even with the sound traveling away because of the open space they’re in, it’s already incredible. Minho can just imagine how this kind of beat - addictive and thrumming - would be once it’s played through ceiling-high speakers beneath flashing lights - it would be the kind of piece that would drive the night, the people, insane.

Whether it’s because there’s enough alcohol in him, or because of the atmosphere of being out on a rooftop at night - the cold wind blowing through his hair - words come to Minho flowing and easily, and they come out of him without a second thought. He’s rapping slightly under his breath, one hand moving to keep the beat - words strung into a simple verse about letting loose after the frustrations of the work week. He doesn’t know how long he goes on for, just lets the words out as they come until no more slip out without him having to pause. Seungyoon lets the beat go on for a bit longer before turning it off and he looks at Minho with an indecipherable expression.

Minho’s ears feel warm now - the realization of what he’s just done sinking in more concretely afterwards. “I guess you have your answer now,” Minho says sheepishly, threading his fingers together between his legs, and watching Seungyoon carefully.

“I’m not a great rapper like your friend,” Seungyoon says slowly, still looking at Minho with an expression that Minho can’t name, “but I think I agree with him - I think you’re really fucking good.”

A heat Minho doesn’t know how to explain spreads throughout his entire body as he looks into Seungyoon’s eyes - it’s different, being told he’s good by Seungyoon than it is from Jiho or Hyuntae or Jihoon. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling that hums through him at those words. He knows he really shouldn’t believe so easily, that he should take Seungyoon’s words with a grain of salt, that Seungyoon is a nice person and wouldn’t want to criticize Minho anyway, regardless of how constructively.

No matter how hard Minho searches though, there isn’t a trace of lie in Seungyoon’s face. There is still only that same genuity he had first seen when Seungyoon had watched him intently at the bar, waiting with no expectations or anticipation for whether Minho needed someone to listen or not. “Thanks,” Minho finally says, throat dry and tight. “I - I don’t think I’ve ever done that though - rapped freestyle that long.” He smiles crookedly. “If it was for sale, I’d ask how much you want for it.”

Seungyoon blinks, and then looks down at his phone, fingers moving over it quickly and then Minho feels his own phone vibrate in his pocket. He takes it out, confused, and sees a message from Seungyoon.

It’s a sound file.

Minho glances up so fast at Seungyoon, he thinks he might have heard his neck crack. “You don’t - “

“I’d better be the first one to hear it,” Seungyoon says, poking Minho’s chest, his eyes playfully stern.

Minho laughs weakly, staring down at his phone again. He opens the message and clicks on the file, letting it download. “You really didn’t - didn’t have to do this,” he swallows, and motions with a sweep of his eyes around the expanse of the rooftop, “any of this.”

Seungyoon nudges Minho’s arm with his own, and this time when their eyes meet, Minho’s chest feels like it’s caving in on itself - he feels like the breath has been stolen out of his lungs when he looks over and the city lights from below are playing in the strands of Seungyoon’s hair, the waving locks that were plastered to his forehead in the club now curling in the winter wind, cheeks pink from the cold.

“Why not?” Seungyoon raises his eyebrows, an easy grin that warms the pit of Minho’s stomach spreads on the DJ”s face. “We’re friends.”

“We’re friends?” Minho echoes, his own eyebrows going up, and he smiles back incredulously in a way that has Seungyoon laughing.

“Just because you gave me head on Tuesday doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” Seungyoon says, and Minho laughs - open-mouthed and loudly enough that he hopes it won’t carry down and startle the people walking by on the streets.

He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed like this.


End file.
